


Of birthday cake and millennium falcons

by frostysunflowers



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies)
Genre: Adult Peter Parker, Birthday Party, Domestic Fluff, Fluff, Gen, Grandpa Tony Stark, Peter Parker is a Good Dad, Star Wars References, Tony is a sap who has no self control
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-04
Updated: 2020-05-04
Packaged: 2021-03-02 17:34:14
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,714
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24010636
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/frostysunflowers/pseuds/frostysunflowers
Summary: "You still haven’t answered my question," MJ says, taking another sip of her juice."Isn’t it obvious?" Tony replies, scratching at one of the scars on his neck with the end of a screwdriver. "It’s Ben’s birthday.""And Ben’s birthday warrants a…" MJ waves a hand vaguely, "what the hell is that thing anyway?"orTony has no self control when it comes to birthday parties and his grandson.
Relationships: Michelle Jones/Peter Parker, Peter Parker & Tony Stark
Comments: 63
Kudos: 388





	Of birthday cake and millennium falcons

**Author's Note:**

> Happy Star Wars Day! Here's some sugary sweet and totally ridiculous fluff for you all.
> 
> May the fourth be with you <3

MJ stands by the front door, still open from where she’d just strolled in, and turns her head ever so slowly, eyes narrowing suspiciously as she observes the room. She does this a few times and it’s the twitching of the left corner of her mouth that tells Peter she isn’t that surprised, or even that mad. 

"What happened to low key?" she whispers loudly. 

Peter just smiles sheepishly.

"Dumbass," MJ says, leaning over to kiss him firmly on the lips, kicking the door shut with her foot. "So I understand this," she gestures to the small section of Death Star bunting hanging experimentally from one of the light fixtures. "And that," she adds, pointing at the collection of plastic lightsabers piled on the couch. "But do I even want to know what that’s about?"

Peter follows her gaze into the middle of the living room where a sea of tools and machinery litter the floor, surrounding a half assembled structure sporadically covered in metal sheeting. A messy head of hair pokes out from within the middle of it all. 

"Goddamn son of a - " comes a vulgar string of curses, interrupting the soft humming that had been filling the air up until then. 

Peter snorts when a spanner is thrown grumpily aside. 

"You know," MJ says, "when I reminded you to pick up the party stuff this morning, this isn’t what I meant. You could have left the crazy man on the shelf."

"I tried. He’s pretty fast, you know. Caught up with me in the aisle with all the bedding. You’d think hiding in a stack of pillows would work but, uh, it really didn’t."

"You got asked to leave, didn’t you."

Peter nods as he follows her into the kitchen. "Yeah. Pretty sure it’ll be on the six o’clock news, in case you wanna record it."

MJ opens the fridge and pulls out the pitcher of orange juice from the middle shelf. "Is it embarrassing?" she asks, grabbing a glass from the draining board and filling it up. 

"It’s Tony Stark being kicked out of Target. It’s  _ amazing." _

MJ hums approvingly through a mouthful of juice. Peter tugs her closer for a kiss, chuckling when she makes a playful noise of protest and a bit of sweet orange seeps onto his lips.

Another loud curse bounces off the walls. They pull apart, Peter licking his lips as MJ looks out into the living room again. She takes another sip of juice and then prods Peter in the ribs. "I’m gonna take another wild guess and say you told him about the problem Ben’s been having at school."

"I didn’t mean to!" Peter groans, knowing there’s no point in denying it. He sags against one of the counters. "It just slipped out."

"Like the time he found out I was pregnant before I did?"

"Okay, you  _ left _ the stick right there in the trash - "

MJ gives him a look and Peter whines, pulling her close again and leaning forward to let his forehead thud into her shoulder. "Don’t be mean to me. He’s been here for hours and I can’t get rid of him."

A laugh ripples sweetly through MJ, ending up somewhere just by Peter’s nose, tickling it gently. "I guess you have suffered enough for your crimes."

"I have," Peter agrees quickly, looping his arms around her waist and letting her lean into him. "I really have. Total suffering. Never gonna recover."

"I can hear you," a muffled snark says from the living room. "And if anyone’s suffered, it’s me. The service in this place is disgraceful."

Peter lifts his head with a scowl. "I gave you a coffee an hour ago."

Tony waves a drill irritably. "Stop living in the past, Parker." He lifts his head up to look at them. "Mrs Jones-Parker. Always a delight to see you."

He winks at her and MJ rolls her eyes. "Yeah, isn’t it just."

"It is! You know you’re my favourite."

Peter feels a fuzzy little thrill as an undeniably warm smile tugs at MJ’s face. She and Tony, despite appearances, have a fondness for each other that he loves to witness. It’s always quiet and understated, so different from the loud affection that he and Tony have always thrown at one another, but it easily renders him a completely useless puddle of goo. 

"If I’m your favourite,'' MJ says, ''why are you doing this in my apartment? My tiny you couldn’t swing a cat in here apartment?"

"You’d be able to swing thousands of cats in the apartment I wanted to buy for you. I’d even buy you a thousand cats to do just that."

"Pretty sure that’s classed as animal cruelty," Peter says, earning a very classic Tony Stark eyebrow raise. "We  _ like _ living here, you know."

Tony snorts but says no more on the matter, having learnt long ago that it’s an argument he’ll never win.

"You still haven’t answered my question," MJ says, taking another sip of her juice. 

"Isn’t it obvious?" Tony replies, scratching at one of the scars on his neck with the end of a screwdriver. "It’s Ben’s birthday."

"And Ben’s birthday warrants a…" MJ waves a hand vaguely, "what the hell is that thing anyway?"

"It’s the thing that’s gonna knock that smug little diva who’s been picking on Ben off her pedestal, that’s what.'' 

"Tony," Peter says, only sounding mildly exasperated, "this thing with Ben and Sally-Anne - "

"Sally-Anne," Tony grumbles scornfully. "Who the hell calls their kid Sally-Anne in this day and age?"

"Do you hear yourself? You sound like such an old man right now. Older than Steve, and he’s super old."

"Okay, first," Tony points the screwdriver at him threateningly, "rude. Second, Steve is officially the king of geriatrics, so to be older than him would defy the laws of physics."

"You  _ have  _ defied the laws of physics before."

"Nooo," Tony singsongs, "I just fiddled with them. There’s a difference." He messes with a large piece of metal sheeting, huffs in frustration, then holds it out. "Little help here, kid."

Peter makes a show of rolling his eyes as he walks over and plucks the sheet from Tony’s grip, bending it in half easily and handing it back with a flourish. 

"What are you even building anyway?" MJ asks. 

"Part of Ben’s costume," Tony says, picking up a blowtorch and peering at it, brow furrowed in consideration.

"Part of his costume…" MJ repeats slowly, eyes flicking over to meet Peter’s, a clear sheen of  _ ‘do something NOW’  _ shining brightly within them.

Peter salutes her silently and says to Tony, "You know Ben’s turning six, right?"

"A manly age, that is."

Peter narrows his gaze as Tony smirks at him. "He’s gonna be perfectly happy with a shit ton of junk food and some party games. Don’t you think this is a little…" he hesitates, then laughs wearily. "I was gonna say over the top but then I realised who I’m talking to."

"Nothing over the top about me, bud," Tony says, grunting as he pushes himself up onto his knees. "I’m all about the necessities."

"And a giant," Peter pauses, still at a loss, " _ whatever  _ is necessary?"

"For showing Little Miss Nasty who’s boss? Absolutely."

" _ God, _ Tony. They’re six, okay? Six year olds say dumb stuff all the time."

"Oh yeah? You’re thirty-three, what’s your excuse?"

"Same as whatever yours is,  _ grandpa,"  _ Peter retorts childishly, typically unable to stop himself from rising to the bait. 

"Okay," MJ cuts in, sounding somewhere between bored and cracking up with laughter, "I’ve got a deadline to meet. You," she kisses Peter by the ear as she walks past, eliciting a goofy grin, "have to collect our son from school soon and  _ you,"  _ she flicks two fingers at her own eyes before pointing them at Tony, "behave, or so help me, Stark, I’ll find somewhere else for one of those screwdrivers to live."

Tony widens his eyes at her but says nothing, shoves a visor on his head and activates the blowtorch. MJ shakes her head and disappears into the shoebox cupboard that makes up her office, closing the door with only a slight bang. 

Peter flops down on the floor, arms and legs akimbo, a full bodied interpretation of a starfish. He watches the flame of the blowtorch for a while, then pokes Tony with his foot, earning a swat to the ankle. Peter pokes him again and smirks when Tony turns the blowtorch off, removes the visor and twists to give him a very nonthreatening glare. 

"What?"

"Are you sure about this?" Peter asks.

Tony blinks at him. "Am I sure that this is going to be the best party ever? Yes. Am I sure that Princess Prissy, ruler of all things mean and unpleasant, is going to eat her words and never call Ben  _ or _ anything he loves dumb again when she sees such incredibleness? Yes. Am I - "

_ "Tony,"  _ Peter says, an exasperated laugh turning the word breathless as he rubs a hand over his face. "She’s a kid, and kids can really suck sometimes, but she’s six, you know? She just needs to grow up a bit, that’s all."

"Don’t care how old she is," Tony mutters, using a hammer with way more than the necessary force required. "What kind on monster picks on someone like Ben?"

"Ben was upset, yeah, and we dealt with it. Sally-Anne coming to the party is meant to be a way of building bridges. It’s not worth them hating each other because she said a few unkind things."

"That’s how it starts," Tony grumbles, handing Peter another metal sheet to bend. "Always a little comment here, a sarcastic remark there. Next thing, it’s notes shoved in lockers and the rumour mill going into overdrive. Trust me," he adds darkly, "I would know."

Peter curves his fingers until the sheet bends but doesn’t relinquish his hold when Tony reaches for it. He jerks it back further when Tony attempts to grab it again. 

"Stop being a brat."

"Stop being a Grumpasaurus and trying to use my son’s birthday party as an audition for Supervillains R’ Us."

"Look, this is new to me, alright?" Tony sighs, running a red and gold hand through his grey hair. "I don’t know how to deal with it any other way. You always insisted on going solo when it came to handling any feckless idiots who gave you a hard time, which was admirable but frustrating for those of us watching from the sidelines - "

"Watching?" Peter scoffs, pushing up onto his elbows in his disbelief. "The amount of times you and Happy actually _ got out _ of the car outside my school at the slightest sign of - "

"And Morgan," Tony carries on loudly, like Peter hadn’t even spoken, "was so wonderfully weird - "

"She’s  _ still _ weird - "

" - that the other kids were either too scared or too enamoured with her to even  _ think  _ about bullying her. And she’s the only one carrying my name in this scenario so I figured she’d be the easiest target, not a little guy as cute as Ben."

"He’s not an easy target," Peter says, dropping back down onto the floor once more, curls haloing around his head. "He’s just...very sweet. He doesn’t wanna upset someone even if they upset him. Says it makes him feel even more sad."

Tony plucks the metal sheet from his hand. "Wonder where he gets that particular personality trait from.''

Peter feels his heart go lopsided, beating itself as soft as a marshmallow as he looks at Tony; takes in the faded scars on his face, the lines carved deep into the spaces by his eyes like tyre tracks in snow, the patches of dark within the steel of his hair, a lingering souvenir of his younger years. Peter’s never been quiet about how much he loves Tony, but sometimes he gets hit with such a fierce burst of it, like trails of electricity lighting up his heart. 

His face must turn soft because Tony smiles at him, warm and affectionate and slightly bewildered. "What’s that look for, Underoos?"

"Nothing," Peter shrugs, grinning. "Just remembering what an absolute cornball you’ve turned into since becoming a grandpa."

Tony snorts but doesn’t even bother to argue. With a horrendously loud groan and some even louder cracking of joints, he pulls himself up and out from the belly of his unfinished creation and stretches out on the floor beside Peter, top to tail. 

"What are you buildiiiiing," Peter asks, nudging Tony’s side with his knee. 

"I’m shocked and appalled that you can’t tell."

"Tonyyyy…"

" _ God,  _ you’re annoying. How can you still be this annoying as a fully grown man with a kid of your own?"

"I’ve been waiting for you to answer that question about yourself for years."

They descend into a lazy elbowing match for a while until an alarm sounding from Peter’s pocket has him sitting up and stretching his arms high. 

"Gotta go pick up Ben. You coming with?"

"Sure, I can finish this later," Tony says, holding out a hand and allowing Peter to pull him up from the floor to the chorus of more joint popping. "Jesus. Don’t ever get old, Pete. It sucks."

"I’ll do my best," Peter promises, grabbing his jacket from the back of the couch. He eyes the mess in front of him again. "Seriously, what is that?"

Tony sighs. "Ben’s dressing up as Han Solo, right?"

"Yeah…"

"And what does every scruffy looking nerf-herder need in order to be the real deal?"

"...A Wookiee?"

Tony groans, throwing his hands up. "A Millennium Falcon, fanboy."

"Oh!" Peter looks at it again. "That checks out. It looks like a piece of junk."

Tony cuffs him round the side of the head. "And yet she’s got it where she counts, kid."

"Just one question." Peter lifts his hand, thumb and forefinger hovering closely together. "Teeny tiny one."

"Shoot."

"How are you planning on getting the Falcon out of here?"

Tony stares at him, eyes the narrow frame of the front door, then sighs heavily. 

"Shit."

  
  


* * *

Two days later, in a rented room at the back of  _ Donnie’s Diner,  _ Ben’s favourite place to eat in the whole city, kids are full up to their eyeballs with sugar and wielding lightsabers with all the ferocity of seasoned duellists.

The buffet table at the back is a bombsite of leftover stormtrooper marshmallows, peanut butter and jelly sandwiches cut into impressive Yoda shapes, lightsaber fruit kebabs and the remains of the birthday cake that Morgan had baked and covered in plastic figurines and elaborate icing sculptures. A small Darth Vader rests idly in a blob of buttercream with Luke not too far away, showing solidarity by lying face down in a pile of rainbow sprinkles.

A full on intergalactic dogfight takes place between the many TIE fighters and X-wings dangling from the starry canopy of the ceiling; the Death Star bunting frames the crowded gift table and a big projection screen hangs off a wall, the Battle of Yavin playing upon it as tiny Jedi Knights and Princess Leia’s yell their delight with the odd bounty hunter mixed in among them. Even Ben’s ‘little nemesis’, as Tony had so petulantly dubbed Sally-Anne, has made an effort, dressed in a very new looking Ewok costume that makes her look like an oversized teddy bear. 

Peter sips fruit punch from a party cup decorated with AT-AT walkers and watches fondly as Ben, masquerading as a curly haired Han Solo, races around in his custom made Millennium Falcon, the pedals a rapid blur of movement and the metal casing gleaming brightly save for a few dings here and there. Jack, Ben’s very best friend, hurries alongside him in an adorable Chewbacca onesie, making all the appropriate Wookiee noises at anyone who happens to be in their way. 

"What are we supposed to do with that once the party’s over?"

Peter looks at MJ, or more accurately, Boba Fett and shrugs. "Tony said he’d keep it at the lake house."

"Does Ben know that?"

"I’m hoping the inevitable sugar crash later will prevent me from actually having to tell him we’re not taking it home," Peter winces. 

"He’s not going to slip into a coma. He’ll still ask about it."

"His favourite grandpa can explain it to him then," Peter says, gesturing to where Tony, Rhodey and Ned, all dressed as Luke Skywalker, are having what looks like a heated debate about the plastic lightsabers they’re holding. "See how well he fares against those puppy dog eyes."

"Seeing as Ben inherited those eyes from you, I don’t hold out much hope for him."

"Dad! Mommy!" 

Ben’s joyful shriek accompanies the Falcon nearly careening into Peter’s legs. Jack skids to a halt, bumping into MJ’s hip with a giddy laugh and, to Peter’s surprise, Sally-Anne brings up the rear, flushed-face and giggling sweetly. 

"Hey, Benny-boy," Peter grins, stooping down to kiss his head, briefly catching the scent of warm skin and sugar and no-tears shampoo. "Made the Kessel Run yet?"

"Not yet," Ben shakes his head. "Can you help me out? I wanna ask Grandpa Tony to tell Jack and Sally-Anne about Dum-E."

"Oh, this should be good," MJ snickers as Peter lifts Ben free. "I’m gonna get a snack."

"You’re terrible," Peter gushes, reaching out to snag her fingers as she passes. "I love you."

"Ditto," she says, pausing briefly to kiss him through her mask. 

Ben makes a brief pit-stop so that May, another Princess Leia, can give him a gigantic hug, quickly followed by one from his Nana Jones, and then vaults himself into Tony’s knees, nearly sending the man tumbling over.

"Is that the girl that’s been picking on Ben?"

"Oh my  _ god,"  _ Peter moans as Happy appears beside him, a paper plate of strawberry and pineapple chunks in his hand. "Did - did you pick those off the kebab skewers?"

"I’m not a big fan of fruit. This keeps your aunt happy."

"You couldn’t just, like, eat around the other bits?"

Happy shrugs and pointedly throws a strawberry into his mouth. He jerks his chin and says, "So, is that her?"

"Is nothing sacred in this family? I’d like to be able to have a little privacy regarding some things, you know."

Happy just snorts and gives him a look, the same one he’s been giving since Peter turned down Tony’s original offer of joining the Avengers. It’s fond, mocking and warm all at once. Peter rolls his eyes and turns his attention back to where, to his great surprise, Tony is now sat on a chair with three children huddled against his knees, listening intently with wide, mesmerised eyes.

"What a sap," Peter laughs, lifting an arm and tucking it round Morgan as she and Pepper come to join him. The pair of them are dressed as Ewoks, which Peter finds hilarious considering how tall they are. 

"He’s the biggest sap," Morgan agrees. "He’s got even more presents for Ben, you know. They’re stashed in the garage."

"I told him not to go overboard," Peter sighs, though it’s hard to stay mad as he watches Tony captivate and amaze, all previous frustrations and prickled feelings forgotten in favour of telling stories for his grandson. 

"It’s Tony," Pepper smiles. "It’s what he does."

Peter’s heart does the soft marshmallow thing again, pulsing treacle through his veins as he considers the truth of Pepper’s words; thinks back on all of the things Tony’s done for him over the years, sometimes out of necessity and always out of love. 

"Aw, are you having a moment," Morgan teases, wiggling a finger into his ribs. "The sappiness is strong with you both."

Peter playfully shoves her. She shoves back and it quickly descends into feisty chaos, narrated by Pepper’s resigned scolding and Happy’s familiar complaining. 

The party winds down an hour later. Everybody is sent home with a stormtrooper party bag stuffed full of more cake and annoyingly loud trinkets for their parents to despair over for the next few days. Ben and Jack squeeze each other goodbye in fierce hugs, while Sally-Anne waves shyly at him and at Tony as her mother leads her out the door. 

Tony’s face immediately shifts into a wary mask as Peter sidles up to him with a wide grin.

"Soooo, did you get your new best friend’s number?"

"You’re a pain in the ass, you know that?"

"What? I’m just asking. You guys seemed to be getting along!"

"She’s…not so bad," Tony admits, "when you get to know her."

"Shocker."

"Less of the sass, you." Tony says, cuffing him over the back of the head. "Plus Ben’s a pretty good judge of character. Must get that from his mother."

"Hey, I’m pretty good too," Peter pouts, throwing his arms around Tony in a gleeful hug, making the man grumble even as his arms come up to return it. "I judged you well enough."

"Lucky me."

"Hey, Peter," Rhodey calls from over by the buffet table, a chocolate smeared and dozy looking Ben standing by his side as they snaffle the last of the leftover cake. "Tony says he can beat you in a lightsaber duel."

"What?" Peter yelps, pulling away with a loud gasp of offence. "For real?"

Tony smirks. "With one hand behind my back, kiddo."

"Oh, it’s on."

Two lightsabers, one green and one blue, go flying up into the air. Peter snatches the green and Tony goes for the blue and they take their positions, weapons held defensively. 

"Your powers are weak, old man," Peter says, deepening his voice as he brandishes the lightsaber with an exaggerated flick of his hand.

"You can’t win, Underoos," Tony says breezily, twirling the toy with impressive dexterity. "If you strike me down, I shall - yah!" 

"Hey, that’s cheating!" Peter yelps as Tony swings, a glancing blow off Peter’s knuckles. "Ben, come save me!"

"Too tired!" Ben replies. "You’re both on the light side, just be friends."

"Yeah," Tony teases, "let’s just be friends."

He swings the lightsaber again, hitting Peter on the edge of his hip.

''Lucky shot!'' Peter jeers. 

''In my experience, there's no such thing as luck,'' Tony grins.

''God, you're so lame.''

''Love you too, kid.''

**Author's Note:**

> Thanks for reading! Come find me on tumblr under frostysunflowers


End file.
